


The Seven Deadly Sins

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Seven Deadly Sins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 20:44:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10647726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Anger. Lust. Envy. Greed. Pride. Gluttony. Sloth.These are the Seven Deadly Sins, and they embody some of the skaters.Yuri is angry at everything, Chris is filled with lust, Yuuri is a known glutton, JJ is filled with pride, Georgi is envious of his ex, Victor is extra and greedy, Phichit is a bit of a sloth





	The Seven Deadly Sins

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a fic about the skaters and how they reflect each of the 7 deadly sins. This one is the most obvious, Yuri is very angry, obviously, but some of the sins are harder to attribute to the characters. If you think a different skater would be better with a different sin, just let me know! (I'm not very sure about greed or sloth right now.)
> 
> This is what I'm thinking:  
> Pride-JJ  
> Greed-Victor?  
> Lust-Chris  
> Anger-Yurio  
> Gluttony-Yuuri  
> Envy-Georgi  
> Sloth-Phichit?

Anger.

Yuri has a lot to be angry about.

It’s the emotion that runs through Yuri’s veins when he sees Victor canoodling off with the Japanese piglet, when their shoulders brush or when they send each other knowing smiles from across the room. Seeing Victor tie Yuuri’s skates, when instead the silver haired Russian should be tying his own skates, getting ready to win another gold medal. He’s angry at Victor, for not completely fulfilling his promise to him, for not becoming his coach, for giving up on his career, for turning his back on Mother Russia. Most of all, he’s angry because Victor fulfilled his promise to Yuuri, became Yuuri’s coach, gave up his career for Yuri. _So you would do it for the other Yuuri, the stranger you met once, but you wouldn’t do it for me, your family, would you Vitya?_

It’s the emotion that burns Yuri’s face an angry shade of red when he sees JJ, just a little too close to Otabek, laughing and talking about- who cares? It doesn’t matter what they’re talking about, they could be talking about Yuri for heaven’s sake - they’re still much too close for Yuri’s liking. It doesn’t matter that JJ is engaged to his fiance, it doesn’t matter that their wedding is planned in July, it doesn’t matter that JJ is presumably straight, Yuri can only see someone being a little too friendly to his...friend? Crush? Otabek seems to be enjoying himself, chuckling at JJ’s jokes, drinking from a bright red Solo cup. _Is your cup really red Beka, or is red just the only color I can see right now?_

It’s the emotion that curls his fist, and presses his nails into his skin when he falls on a jump, when he’s not perfect. When his limbs hit the hard ice, when his cheek presses into the cold, a sting spreading across his face. The impact hurts, but the frigid ice numbs the pain, but then it feels like needles are pricking at his skin again. When he flubs a jump, his blood boils and he can see Yakov shake his head from the sidelines and motion for him to get up. He doesn’t want to get up and try again, he wants to kick at the ice and just be angry. He thinks of his grandpa shaking his head - and he gets up once again. This time his ice skates cut into the ice, and he tries again, he does the spin faster, slower, harder, softer, until it’s perfect. _Is perfect good enough for you, Grandpa?_

It’s the emotion that Yuri feels when people call him Yurio, a name a little too close to home and a little too far from Yuri’s comfort zone. Makes sense that his comfort zone is far from home, it’s not like he ever really had one anyway. The name Yurio reminds him of a mother’s eyes, red and puffy, cheeks tearstained and blotchy. The name Yurio reminds him of hazy memories of empty green glass bottles strewn across carpeted floors, yellow sunlight streaming through bay windows, illuminating the shards of alcohol, leaving green shadows around a living room. The green shadows were too similar to stained glass, the kind one would see lining the walls of a pristine church, cleaned of sin.

_But I’m not free of sin, I’m full of one called anger._


End file.
